


upon the darkest blue

by vwritesaus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Reference to Nomenclature, Self-Reflection, character study if you squint harder, fluff if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwritesaus/pseuds/vwritesaus
Summary: Tsukishima Kei only likes the colour gold when it's reflected in blue.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	upon the darkest blue

**Author's Note:**

> I blame mona for getting me into this ship
> 
> this was, in a roundabout way, inspired by her tsukikage art [here](https://twitter.com/tenowls/status/1249003495887269888?s=20)

Tsukishima Kei is more than aware of the phrase _all that glitters is not gold._ He knows the meaning behind it every time he looks at himself in the mirror, scowling at the colour that makes up his physical body. Gold stares at him through clear lenses, flecked with darker gold—almost a brown, but not quite. Gold falls into gold through a thick curtain, sat upon his head, blinding him in any light that it catches. Gold upon gold on top of what might as well be gold: the body that moves the colour with every breath, every sigh, every turn towards the mirror, every step away from it.

All colours clash with gold. Black makes it stand out more; he hates sticking out. Red makes it look festive; he hates the basicness of it. White makes it a poor attempt at royalty; silver-spoon privilege makes him sick. Green makes it look like spring; he hates spring. So Tsukishima drowns himself in grey, an attempt to dull the shine of polished “treasure”: an antique buried in a new layer of wet cement.

His golden appearance, however, didn’t seem to be enough of an insult. Everyone he meets, he introduces himself as Tsukishima Kei. The first comment never fails to be _oh Moon Island? How fitting!_ He is very aware of the intrinsic meanings behind each stroke of the kanji of both his names: Moon Island and Firefly. Perhaps the two most golden and bright and spotlighted things in the whole damn universe.

People marvel over the glow of fireflies on muggy, summer nights, like moths to flames. There’s a beauty to fireflies, a beauty to the moon and the island that glimmers in its wake. They draw the need for wax poetry about the magnificence of moonshine or dancing fireflies. There’s romance, secrets veiled in dark corners and morning glories, hued in shimmering, pulsing halos. Gold shines the brightest in the dark: a natural lighthouse. Tsukishima knows this because he’s read it all. He knows because he attracts people the same way fireflies catch children’s eyes; the same way moonlight brings out owls and cats from the shadows of trees and alleyways.

How can people be attracted to a concept that doesn’t glitter, much less to a person who is filled not with beauty but with acrimony? It’s the question Tsukishima asks his mirror, fingers taut and lips thinned. How can anyone look at this glittery, fake mess and think _beautiful?_ So he responds through twitchy sneers and icy words.

Break the image of gold. Reinforce bogus gold. Tsukishima Kei, golden as they come, is a counterfeit.

Then comes a day when Tsukishima doesn’t focus on the gold that stares back at him. There comes a morning when he’s staring into blue. A moment where gold is reflected not through the bathroom mirror but in the rays that pass through navy like glass. Confusion stares back, before animosity flashes like a cannon. It, for some reason, pisses him off.

Tsukishima cannot deny, however, the underlying fascination crawling under his skin; cannot deny that amongst the desire to shove the owner of the navy eyes to the side, he’s enchanted by the colour so stark against his own. His personality is shit, dumb as they come, a waste of his time, really, but Tsukishima cannot rip his gaze away.

Over weeks of quick glances and wicked smirks, of sharp wit, scrunched noses, Tsukishima learns a few things. Navy eyes are deep, dark, untouchable; black hair is glossier and finer up close, and falls just short of arched, equally black eyebrows; and skin that is darker than his own (but still somewhat pale) suits mixes of dark grey and black better than any other colour.

Even his name fits. Kageyama: Shadow Mountain.

Kageyama is an enigma, one that Tsukishima does not ever want to crack.

(Maybe one day.

Maybe Kageyama sees him as an enigma, too.)

It takes them a while to reach this point, where Tsukishima forgets about gold and drowns in blue; where he looks in the mirror for only a split second before moving on. It takes spat out phrases soothed with gentle fingers for Tsukishima to cast the stupid phrase from his mind; it takes being blanketed in a warmth only found in the darkest corners, illuminated with trembling waves of light to think _I’m more than just gold_ ; it takes navy eyes and black hair and a facetious mouth for Tsukishima to crack the cement and let it fall in pieces. 

His given name has started to sound less like _firefly_ and more like _Kei._ Kei. Nothing attached to it other than a voice pouring with fondness; nothing other than earnest eyes fixated on his face, coating him with a blue so dark it might as well be black. Tsukishima finds he likes gold better when it’s reflected in that abyss, highlighting smugness and adoration and inquisitiveness all at once, and sometimes causing deep anger to glint like the edge of a sharp knife. He likes gold against blue, likes that tenderness doesn’t have to be gold or sunny or bright to be a source of something akin to happiness.

 _All that glitters is not gold_.

All that glitters is blue.

Kageyama Tobio glitters, and so does Tsukishima Kei. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vwritesaus) or [tumblr](https://vwritesaus.tumblr.com)


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